His tongue is only slightly removed from his cheek as he expands on the theory. Rottweiler types are often more trouble than their worth, while Labradors constantly need to be ‘stroked’. If the phone rings at 9pm on a Friday night, it’s either a Labrador needing reassurance, or a report of the team car screeching around a municipal car park with a Rottweiler at the wheel.

“With a Continental team, you sign and commit for a year; no matter what happens, you’ve got them for 12 months,” says Herety. “From a British perspective, we know the characters involved. When you start to work, you realise just what you’ve got, with the dog analogy. Sometimes you’ve seen [the hassle], and you’ll sign it, because the benefit outweighs the cost.”

Talent puddle

Despite the success of riders like Carthy, Herety believes the talent pool of young riders emerging from the British scene is alarmingly shallow. While the Academy continues to produce top-class pros – from Mark Cavendish and Geraint Thomas in the first intake, through to Owain Doull, the latest graduate to sign for Team Sky – the choice of riders for a Continental team manager like Herety is far more limited, he says.

“There’s not a decent pool. Personally, I would say we are not in as healthy a position as everyone is making out. The talent pool from junior level is not anywhere near big enough, considering the money that’s been invested in cycling.

“I would say [British cycling] is not in as healthy a position as everyone is making out”

“It’s not a criticism, because I don’t have the solution, but below the riders that get on the Academy, there isn’t much that we can choose from.

“It’s quite awkward for us to take a first year under-23 and fit them into the level that we do at Continental. The ones who can would have been good enough go on the Academy. There’s a missing link in our pathway. That type of rider could do with another year of riding slightly smaller races.”

“I’m a little bit pessimistic about it to be honest. That’s the only thing that the world class performance programme hasn’t done. It’s a top-led model where you’re supposed to bring everyone through below you. The Australian system has done that and when I started to work for our world class programme, I thought it would do that. We don’t have enough of the type of riders who say, ‘I’m going to stick two fingers up and say you were wrong not to pick me’.”

Cost-benefit

Herety sees as much benefit in cost-benefit analyses as dog analogies. It’s why he has employed Tim Kennaugh as team coach. The benefit outweighs the cost, he believes. He hopes soon to introduce a centralised coaching model, with Kennaugh responsible for the training programmes of all JLT-Condor riders.

“It’s the first time we’ve had a full-time coach and that’s made a big difference,” Herety says. “They’ve had to fill in diaries on a daily basis. If they haven’t been out training that day, he knows, and they know he knows. It isn’t that we beat them over the head with that information, but if things don’t go well at the weekend they can’t use that as excuse. We’re not as rigourous as the Academy programme, but we still have to checks and balances with the riders we sign. That’s a quantum leap this year.”

Dispassionate observers will hope for more quantum leaps for Herety’s squad, one that has been around for what feels like forever, from its Recycling foundations to the sleek Rapha years. In Condor, whose bikes have been ridden by the likes of Tom Simpson and Sir Bradley Wiggins, they have one of the most respected marques in British cycle sport as a consistent backer, and Herety fits with their fine tradition of giving young talent a chance. All except Poodles, of course.

“If you’ve got a Poodle, get rid of it as fast as you can,” he says, laughing. While RideLondon and the Tour of Britain are likely to once again to extend an invitation to Herety’s men, Crufts might be less welcoming.